"Oh, hi. Um…we can explain."

"Can you do it quietly? You wouldn't want him to find out you're still alive. He's having a rough enough time of it already."

They all stood to face her, wary of a surprise attack from the surrounding foliage. Everything remained still.

"Why aren't you making a grab for the Captain's title?" Al demanded. Poison Ivy raised an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Bitch-God," the Captain clarified. "You weren't nearly so civil before. What gives?"

"Harley," Ivy said with a shrug. "She thinks your Professor Crane is 'a funny guy who just needs some help loosening up.' Who am I to ruin her Christmas by killing someone she likes who doesn't treat her like a punching bag?"

"You're full of holiday cheer, aren't you?" Al said, almost accusingly, and laughed. Poison Ivy looked offended.

"No!"

"I understand," said the Captain. "Neither am I. Christmas is a horrible time—I'm guessing your main objection is the murder of all the pine trees, holly and poinsettias, right? Add some old memories to the mix, and you hate that you can even consider feeling warm and fuzzy at such a time, no matter how intrusive those feelings can be. This whole time of year sucks, and twits like these," she said with an affectionate smile for her two friends, "can take their joy and shove it up their asses with a holiday wreath."

A peculiar change came over Poison Ivy's face just then. Her mouth tightened. The corners of her eyes crinkled slightly. Her skin…changed. It couldn't be called blushing, exactly, but her face went a much deeper shade of green.

Then she smiled. She even made a sound that could legitimately be termed a laugh. It was painfully self-conscious, but it was real.

"Merry Christmas!" Al cheered, and threw her arms around the plant-lady's shoulders.

Ivy stiffened, and a handful of vines swept down to pull Al away from her. Techie tensed, prepared for the battle she had been expecting all along, but the vines didn't do anything more than mark a minimum safe distance.

"Sorry," the Captain said on behalf of her first mate. "We'll…just be going."

"Merry Christmas," Al repeated in a frighteningly bubbly voice.

"Uh…yeah. Merry Christmas." She said it grudgingly, with a definite air of shut up and get out of my home, but she said it. Techie and the Captain pulled Al toward the open air of the park before she could glomp the villainess again.

"Thanks for not killing us. And especially thanks for not killing him." Ivy shrugged uncomfortably.

"I suppose he's as entitled to shelter from the storm as any other meat-creature. And as for you, I'd be just as glad to pretend I never saw you here."

"Excellent plan," Al said brightly as the others began to physically drag her away. "We won't bother you again. And we'll decorate a plastic tree in your honor." With a disgusted sigh, Poison Ivy turned to go back inside. "Take care of the meatbags! Happy Christmas!"

She started walking on her own just in time for the Captain to give up on movement and lay her head on her first mate's shoulder.

"You really love Christmas."

"Of course I do. It's the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas is magic, and it's not all lies. There is such a thing as love. And family, oh sister-I-never-had."

"And fairies," Techie piped in.

"And Santa Claus."

"Not Santa Claus," the Captain said with a shiver. "But, okay, I'll give you magic and fairies and family and…love. But only because it's snowing."

The three of them walked back to the Frohike, arm in arm, discussing the likelihood of Poison Ivy spilling the secret of their continued existence, and their dear Squishy's reaction if he learned the truth. On this night, they could hope that they would be with him again soon, and (even slimmer possibility) that he would be happy to see them.

Until that time came, they had each other. And there was just enough Christmas left to make a happy holiday, after all.

There was pie.

High above the city, invisible to them, the stars shone on.